Page 139 of Wife After Wife
“Sounds wonderful, Harry! I can’t believe you’ve done this for me, I’m beyond thrilled.”
“Right, well. I’ll be off, then.”
She watched him walk back to the entrance doors. There was a hint of a limp, and his head was slightly down, like he’d just received sad news.
It was no doubt his reaction to meeting her. Clearly, Harry was well off, and it looked like he was some big shot in London society. While she was plain old Anki, out of the USA for the first time ever. What was a guy like that doing playingAlt Life, let alone wanting to meet up with her?
The suite was breathtaking, and she kicked off her shoes and twirled around the room like a princess in a Disney movie.
She tried not to dwell on the fleeting disappointment in Harry’s eyes.
What’s the problem? I’m in London, with a man who feels like an old friend.
It was going to be great!
If he came back.
Harry
Anki was hideous. No, not hideous, just appallingly ordinary. Lank, mousy hair around a face with no definition, with nothing memorable about it. Watery, pale blue eyes, a tall but shapeless body in Walmart clothes.
Harry’s initial dismay had been profound. Then he’d chided himself—how shallow was he? One should never judge a book by its cover. He knew Anki was a good person, kind and fun. So what if she wasn’t a Scandinavian goddess?
He’d kept up the chitchat all the way into town. Anki’s pleasure at seeing London and the Savoy was gratifying, and he decided to lock his disappointment away and make the most of his time with this unlikely friend.
Now here they were, stepping into their pod on the London Eye, just as she’d been dreaming about, she said. Harry looked down over his city at sunset, the lights twinkling in the dusk, the hum of traffic receding as they climbed higher into the silence. It was quite something, seeing London through the eyes of a first-time visitor.
“It’s awesome, Harry,” she said as the Houses of Parliament grew smaller below them, along with the barges and pleasure boats on the Thames.
“It is, isn’t it?”
He pointed out the dome of St. Paul’s, the iconic landmark that had famously watched over London during the Blitz, spared while the city burned around it. Then he was quiet, letting London work its magic on Anki. And on himself. He was aware of the sweep of time as he gazed down over history laid out below, from the few remnants of the Great Fire, through the Regency terraces, the Dickensian pubs and narrow backstreets, the former East End slums, now reborn as London’s coolest postcodes. The city’s dynamism, always reinventing itself, morphing, evolving, like some giant organic beast, the planners and authoritiesscurrying in its wake. The pomposity of Whitehall; the palaces, old and new; the churches and cathedrals, spires and domes. The gleaming towers of the City, their windows glinting in the evening sun. The grandfather of them all, the Tower of London, crouched beside Tower Bridge.
He was part of all this. It had made him what he was.
•••
Harry saw Anki three more times before she set off on the coach tour that would use up the rest of her vacation. On her final afternoon, they strolled through St. James’s Park.
“I googled you, Harry.”
“Ah. The truth will out.”
“You never told me you were this super-rich media guy.”
“That’s the beauty of the internet. Shouldn’t have let you find out my surname, I suppose.”
“I’m glad I did. You kinda make sense to me more now. I’m sorry you lost two wives. I guess all the money in the world can’t make up for that.”
“Quite. I haven’t come to terms with Janette’s death yet. Not sure I ever will. But I have the children, they’re always a joy. OK, that’s an exaggeration. Two of them are a joy, one’s a worry.”
She laughed. “Harry, you’re a wonderful person. Can we stay friends? Still talk online?”
“Absolutely, sweetheart. Maybe we should desist from...”
“Making out?”
“Yes, that. Would seem a bit odd now, don’t you think? So, no more hanki-panki with Anki?”
